Blindsided
by Fiannalyn also Fianna
Summary: The world of Haldir of Lothlorien changes abruptly after a tragic meeting.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter One:

The rain slanted in sheets, a grey line of mist that moved slowly toward him over an already grim landscape. Haldir crouched low, his hood pulled low over his eyes, to watch the oncoming storm. Apprehension had him unsettled, a frustration that was not characteristic, a regret that made him feel ill. Fingers gripped tightly to the long red bow in his hand, he closed his eyes. Instantly the horrors returned to his mind, the screams and the devastation, now hidden by the mist, blood washed away by cold and wrathful gods.

He shook his head, squinting against the rain, his cloak drenched even with the magickal qualities that enhanced it. It was time to move on, yet he could not rise, could not take his eyes from the plain below, from the bodies even if blurred by the storm, still there where his mind remembered them.

A hand on his shoulder made him sigh.

"We can do no more."

"I cannot leave," Haldir replied.

Orophin crouched beside him and leaned against his bow, fingers stained red with blood. "We have done all we can. There is nothing more to do, Haldir."

"We should have prevented this." His face felt tight, his lips drawn into a tight grimace for too long.

"They did not listen to reason," Orophin argued. His gaze passed over the plain as Haldir had just done, lips set into a thin line. "We cannot fight their battles, brother."

"They were overwhelmed in minutes. They had little chance to flee."

Orophin turned his head, blue eyes dull with pain. "They knew what was to come, yet they did not turn back. They had much courage if little sense. We told them what would happen. And indeed, Haldir, the gods themselves weep at the cost. Do not take this on your shoulders; you did what you could. As emissary, as a friend to those who did not appreciate your sage advice, you offered an option they refused. It is on their heads…"

"Which lie now in the mud," Haldir replied. Orophin was right, however. Dwelling on the misfortune below would do no good. He gripped Orophin's knee for a moment. "How many survive?"

"All told, perhaps a dozen, a few more might yet be found." Orophin rose to his feet and shifted the bow to his shoulder. "There are only two healers, we could use you."

Haldir nodded. "I will be there in a moment."

His brother returned the nod, eyes narrowed for a brief moment, but whatever he might have said he held back. Orophin touched his brow. "As you command, March Warden."

It was a reminder, of course, of his duty. Haldir allowed a smile to briefly curve his lips. The rain would fall for some time. There were men to be saved as yet, even if he could not save them all. He rose to his feet and pulled his hood lower, the fabric damp against his skin. They needed shelter. He glanced at the surrounding hills, remembering, placing landmarks. Turning away he paused but did not look back. He had tried.

It was time to move on.

Idun struggled to open her eyes but doing so caused so much pain she gave up. She couldn't move, something heavy held her down in the wet mud, the rain had soaked the ground around her so much she felt as if she was sinking. She forced back the rising panic at the thought, and once again tried to open her eyes.

It might have been easier if she could have used her hands, but both were pinned by the heavy weight on top of her, her bow caught fast as well.

She could hardly breathe, the pain from stretching her facial muscles almost too great to bear. A warmth she knew was blood seeped down her cheek. She was alive however, if nearly buried.

She needed to remain calm. Panic would not help, nor would the sense of despair aid her if she let it take hold. She would find a way to get free. She had only to concentrate on what to do.

She could wiggle her foot. Doing so brought a faint twinge of pain but nothing she couldn't handle. She could wiggle her fingers, perhaps shifting her hips might help. She caught her breath as the weight also shifted, forcing her deeper into the mud.

A voice made her pause, her breath held in both fear and anticipation. She could not make out the words, whoever it was, was as yet too far away. Idun tried to call out, but her voice cracked, her breath labored from the weight.

"Please…" She nearly cried in frustration, but warriors did not cry. She coughed and tried again. "Please, someone help me."

The effort to call out was exhausting. She felt numb, knew she should feel the cold of the mud but did not. She had nearly given up when the weight shifted above her.

"Here!" The voice was close, nearly at her side.

Idun felt relief as the weight lifted. Several hands gripped her arms and her legs to carry her gently out of the mud, placing her on something dry. She reached up, finally able to move her arms and felt them pushed back down.

"Do not move, you may have many injuries."

She blinked at the sound of the voice. It was not one of her people; the accent spoke of something else something she could not place. She tried again to lift one hand, but found her wrist caught in a firm grasp.

"I cannot open my eyes."

She felt fingers brush her cheeks. "They are already open."

Idun froze in horror. "I am blind?"

Something warm settled over her, tucked around her almost too securely. She felt trapped, distraught.

"My bow, where is my bow?"

A faint grunt responded, almost as if amused. "Here, do not worry. We will keep it for you."

Idun tossed her head, frustrated, feeling more bound by the moment. "I want it now."

She felt a hand touch her face, her brow briefly. "It will do you no good. You must relax. You are safe."

Safe? She almost laughed, the sound coming out instead as a shaky breath. They were never safe from the evils of the world. But something brushed her mind, a faint whisper of comfort, a voice in the midst of the darkness that promised light. The hand on her brow pressed down, over her eyes. The voice murmured words she could not understand, the sound a faintly musical air, lilting in a deeply-throated hum that sent shivers racing over her nerve endings. The sound crept into the darkness of her mind, fear and worry faded until she knew nothing more.

Haldir paused for a moment to take a breath, his gaze distant, his mind bent on more than the simple delving he worked on the girl. She felt frail beneath his hands as he moved them lightly over her frame. Yet he sensed a fierce well of determination that had kept her alive in the midst of such horror. Perhaps the Vala had worked their magick in her favor, burying her under the bodies of the dead so she might live.

Most would have not have survived such terrible trauma, the human mind was weak, unable to cope with such despair. Yet she had not lost the battle, her first words to him those of a warrior, ready as yet to do battle.

Haldir shifted so he could gaze at her closely. The delving had given him her injuries, except for the blindness. A blow to the head? He wondered as he gently turned her head to search for proof. Nothing marred the pale brow beneath his hands, no blood but that of the man who had lain over her. He brushed away a few strands of hair that was nearly as pale as his own, the strands more blond than his silver. Most of it was drawn into a heavy braid coiled at the back of her head, but the few long strands he brushed aside told him it was longer than his own. Her eyes had been dark however, their gaze horrified at the thought of the loss of sight. He didn't know what to do for her, perhaps the Vala had some hand in this as well. He did not know, nor did he have time to dwell on her misfortune. Too many as yet needed his aid, too many lay weary, so many the weight pressed upon him until he bowed his head in frustration.

A voice in his mind rebuked him gently, reminding him once again of his duty. Galadriel brushed aside his despair, reminding him that they lived when many did not. He would do what was needed, as he always did. The girl, Galadriel smiled in his thoughts, a radiance he could feel even leagues from his beloved Lothlórien, would be fine.

A hand on his shoulder brought him back to the present.

"What can I do?" Rumil knelt beside him offering a cup of wine.

Haldir accepted the drink gratefully, swallowing a large draught , eyes closed. "Nothing more for now. She is well enough, her injuries are not life-threatening."

"We will load her onto the wagons then, if you agree," Rumil replied, his eyes already sweeping the remaining area, his thoughts on what he must do next.

Haldir rose to his feet, Rumil's grasp of his elbow welcome. "Yes, she can be moved. She will sleep for some time yet."

Rumil gripped his shoulder again, finally turning to peer at Haldir for a moment. "You must stay strong, Haldir. We will do what we can."

Haldir nodded, his brother's support more than simply a warden doing what was expected. "Indeed."

Rumil bent over the girl, lifting her easily as if she weighed nothing. "She is a pretty one, for all the blood. Hers?"

"No." A feeling swept through him as Rumil walked away. Pretty? He had not considered such things, yet had to agree, belatedly, with his brother. The feeling intensified, bringing him up short as he turned away. He blinked, startled at the sense of possession. A glance back over his shoulder met Rumil's as he settled the girl in the wagon. Rumil lifted a brow, lips curved in a knowing smile.

Haldir grimaced. His brother could sense far too much of his thoughts at times, thankfully one of few who knew his mind. The girl was not his to possess, nor should he want such a thing. He could feel respect for her determination but nothing more than that.

Walking away was harder than he expected. The desire to look once more at her nearly made him turn back but he did not, instead he moved toward two more who needed his help. He had work to do.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two:

Idun woke groggily from the dream, her fingers still twitching from loosing her bow, her arrow fading from her mind before reaching its target. She pressed a hand to her brow and felt fabric under her fingers. A wound then, she did not remember it. A jolt shook her briefly, making her aware of the movement underneath her, the swaying gait of a wagon on the move. She was lying in the back, the sound of the horse's hooves striking rocks brought her fully awake.

She felt sore all over, her legs heavy with some kind of weight over them. Her ribs ached terribly, more than likely bruised from her fall.

The memories came flooding back into her mind, the screaming horror of the battle. Blood was everywhere, the dead piling up on the ramparts of the outer wall of the village like so much cordwood stacked for winter. She had run out of arrows, had taken to pulling any she could reach from the dead, yet it had not been enough. An explosion of some kind had thrown her over the wall, landing with a wrenching loss of breath only to have another land on top of her, then yet another before she lost consciousness.

Giants had overrun the village. The creatures had hurled boulders as big as houses over the walls, flattening anything and anyone in their path. As had been foretold, the warning unheeded by those who should have listened well.

Idun sighed faintly, queasy from the rocking motion of the wagon. She couldn't lie here like this, ill if not wounded, she would rather face what was ahead on her feet. Kicking off the weight on her legs was harder than she expected. Her ribs took what breath she had at the movement, her strength horrifyingly exhausted in moments.

Determination took over as Idun shoved harder, until finally the weight was dislodged, leaving her feet wonderfully free.

A hand on her knee nearly made her scream.

"You could simply ask me to move," a voice remarked.

She struggled to sit up, aided by a hand on her arm. "I am sorry. I did not know what it was that rested on my legs."

"My legs," the voice replied. "I did not realize you were awake. You have been restless for some time."

The dream, no doubt, twitching her body in response to her thoughts. Many times the dreams had waken her in the night with the jerking motions of the battle in her head. "Where am I?"

"You are in a wagon. We are heading to some safe haven, or so say the elves."

Idun searched her mind for the owner of the voice, the sound familiar. "Jaden?"

A smile made the voice lighter. "Aye. They said you cannot see."

She shook her head, feeling the bandages over her eyes. "No."

"I heard the March Warden speaking to one of the others, he thinks your sight will return. They covered your eyes to protect them from the light if it suddenly comes back."

Idun dropped her hands to her lap and leaned back against the wagon. "I can only hope. So it is the elves that saved us?"

Jaden grunted faintly. He was a slim boy, not more than fifteen. His father had been the village elder who had pleaded they listen to the warnings the elves had brought. It had done no good in the end. "Aye, what little are left."

"Your father?" Idun whispered the question, fearing the answer.

"Gone, as are all the elders. But some not by death," he muttered angrily. "Korag ran, I saw him flee when the gates broke apart. Lisbeth followed shortly afterward, with all our money no doubt as well."

Idun grimaced. It was not what she hoped to hear. "Who is left then?"

"Me, you, two guardians of the wall, buried much like you were when the explosion sent them flying over the wall. Three of the Cook's family survived, hiding in the fireplace of all places, burns to their feet. But little more, Idun."

She shuddered at the loss. "Where are they taking us?"

"I am not sure," Jaden replied. A silence lengthened for some minutes while she waited, questions rising but unvoiced. "I think they come from Lórien."

She tried to remember but her memories were foggy of anything before the battle. "How many are there?" Should they flee from the elves? Set out on their own?

"Twenty that I can count, more I would say than that. They are elusive folk, they frighten me at times at how stealthy they can be. One moment there, the next gone." She felt Jaden shudder. "All business, these ones, grim and silent."

"But they have come to help," Idun reminded him.

"Perhaps, or maybe to gloat." Jaden's voice roughened, suddenly reminding her of his youth. She reached out, found his shirt sleeve and patted it consolingly. "I think not, Jaden. They would not be so cruel." She felt him tremble beneath her fingers. His faint sniff spoke of tears. "Fear not," she said, shifting away from him slightly. "We will get through this and move on. You will become a great Elder like your father, Jaden."

Another sniff, then a sigh. "We are nothing now. There is no village."

Idun punched out gently, meeting his shoulder with a faint sense of relief at her aim. "Do not be so sure. We will rebuild our lives. Be thankful we have them."

"Indeed," another voice responded. She felt Jaden turn beside her, his breath drawn in swiftly.

"March Warden," Jaden replied.

She remembered the voice. Again it drew a reaction from her nerves, a feathered touch of breathlessness. The wagon stopped abruptly, the horse snorting. Tension flooded Idun as a touch brushed her chin, forcing her to lift her head to avoid it.

"How do you feel?"

She could not answer the question. The elf made her uncomfortable, even with his apparent concern.

Jaden answered for her, shifting in the wagon beside her. "She woke up a few minutes ago. Are we there yet?"

Idun had to smile at the impatience of youth.

The elf clearly felt the same, his voice amused. "Nay, young man. We are but a league or so into our journey."

"Is that all?"

Idun welcomed the diversion. Jaden continued to complain, the March Warden answering with great patience, voices blurring into a grey cacophony of sound as things went suddenly dark.

She flinched when fingers gripped her chin, drawing her back into a bleary awareness. "How do you feel?" His voice was close now, seeming only inches from her, the weight of a body, the nearness shadowing her even in her darkness.

"I am well," she replied tersely, pushing out against the wall that seemed suddenly to engulf her. Her hands met cloth, and beneath, a hard wall of muscle that flinched at her touch. So she was not the only one to feel something.

"Not so well," the March Warden replied, just as tersely, the fingers on her chin forcing her to turn her head side to side. "You faded for several moments, nearly unconscious."

Had she? She frowned, forcing the fingers from her chin. "I am fine, just tired."

She heard him snort faintly. Jaden snickered from farther away. When had they moved?

"What is your name?"

The question startled her. Names were personal; they offered a closeness she wasn't sure she wanted. "What is yours?"

"I am Haldir."

Memory returned in a rush, the image of the elf flashing into her mind. He'd been taller than most of the men in the village, lean with a hard edge she could sense even from her vantage point on the wall. Only two had accompanied the elf into the village, all three silver haired like the moonlight on water, dressed in the colors of the forest, with bows longer than she was tall strapped to their backs. They had come peacefully, bringing warning of signs of danger, of a great evil that had come from the mountains. But the elders had not listened, intent on defying creatures they deemed too haughty to really care, too distant and cold to remain if such dangers were soon to come.

Haldir, March Warden of Lothlórien, emissary to the Lady of Light had argued long and hard, but even his smooth tongue had not won the elders over, even after the lengthy discussion, or so it had been said. Idun had not been inside the Covenant Hall, nor had she wanted to be. Her place was on the wall, among her friends and companions. She didn't need anything more than that. Idun only wished to serve her people, or so she insisted when a fierce longing flooded over her at the sight of the elf.

She'd looked away, ignoring the jibes of the men close to her, for they had noted her interest far quicker than she had realized it.

Elves, they had teased, were notably good lovers, and had not Idun waited long enough?

She had shoved Ewan away as he laughed. That had been his last. No sooner had the elves left the village, nay, not more than a hour gone, and the giants had attacked.

She shuddered at the memory. And then realized she had been woolgathering. The wagon was still, a hand rested on her arm, suddenly filled with great tension, the body looming over her taut with apprehension.

Alarm. She could feel it coursing through him, as if by his touch they were somehow connected.

A moment later the warning came in the form of a high pitched whistle, heard from some distance.

The elf cursed, the words clearly something of the sort as he vaulted over the side of the wagon. Jaden squeaked in terror, mumbling they were going to die this time.

Idun was not ready to die, not yet.

She shoved Jaden out of the way, sliding to the end of the wagon by touch. The horse neighed nervously, sensing the danger as well. Voices rang out around her; she could hear the rush of feet, the cries of others filled with terror.

She needed her bow. "Where is my bow, Jaden?"

The boy was cowering in the wagon when she found him. She grabbed his shirt and pulled him closer with a hiss of impatience. The elves were around them, she was sure, but they made little sound. Jaden whimpered.

"Where is my bloody bow?"

"There, beside you," Jaden replied. "But it will do you no good, Idun. You cannot see!"

She ignored the boy, searching vainly for the weapon. She found it finally, fingers closing on the familiar warmth of the wood with relief.

"Arrows?"

Several were thrust in her hand, not from Jaden but from another. "Listen well," was the only remark. Idun smiled grimly. She felt shaky, her legs weak as if she had run leagues. She forced away the feeling, focusing on the sound of trees cracking, something heavy forcing its way toward them. Idun stepped away from the wagon, drawing the bow to cheek , the arrow longer than she was used to. She adjusted the length forward, so her motion of draw remained true. She turned slowly, focusing on sound, the voices around her, the clear twang of other arrows being launched.

It was disturbing to hear the battle rather than see it. Noise descended on her in so many levels. Fear threatened to disarm her. She tightened her grip on the bow, breath held as she waited, feet moving carefully to turn her In a circle.

There. The sound of the giant raging toward her muffled everything else. She could tell when he grasped the trees to uproot them. She heard the thud of his feet as they hit the ground in erratic steps. His voice sent chills over her, remembered the bellows of rage, of hunger. Screams of the wounded returned, the smell of blood and death threatened to overwhelm her.

The arrow sang as she relaxed her fingers. She felt the bow shudder as the wood shaft sprang free, the string snapping its taut cry of release. She heard the wind of its passing, the whirring sound of the fletching cutting through the air.

Idun sighed when the arrow reached its target, thudding with a welcome cry of pain into her adversary with little effect to slow its advance toward them.

Jaden screamed in terror, the sound of breaking wood following too quickly. Idun shifted, drawing another arrow, fingers to cheek as she focused her aim.

They had been giants, seemingly overlarge, but in reality not much more than twenty feet at the most. They had come with surprise, and a ferocity unmatched by the village guardians. Heaving boulders from a distance too far for the village arrows, they had wrought destruction with little effort.

But here they were close; here they were within range of her arrows. She had only to see them in her mind. The ground shook beneath her feet. Idun cried out as she lost her balance, her legs unable to hold her against the shifting of the terrain. She collapsed to her knees, falling to her side as she felt the rush of wind in advance of the tree slicing over her.

Bow still in hand, she rolled to her back and then over as another blow whistled toward her. Dirt and debris exploded beside her head, stinging bits of rock felt embedded into her cheek as she scrambled out of the way. A hand caught her ankle and lifted her off the ground. Idun screamed as she flew into the air.

She fell, losing her bow, the arrows, waiting in a long moment of shocked expectation, to slam into a tree. Instead something caught her around the waist and her trajectory changed abruptly. Breath whooshed out of her chest as she landed instead on something fairly soft, only to realize it was still a tree, the branches of the pine cushioning her fall somewhat. She grasped out in vain for a handhold, rolling off the slanting, prickly savior only to feel nothing once more beneath her.

A moment later she hit the ground, the fall not enough to kill, but enough to stun her to immobility.

The thudding footsteps of the giants reverberated underneath her. The twang of silent arrows told her the elves still fought. Trees crashed down around her. Yet she remained unharmed, lying in shock on the forest floor.

"Are you all right?"

Idun recognized Haldir's voice. She gave a shaky nod.

He grunted in relief. "I could not catch you fully. Rise when you can and back up ten steps. You will be within the tree's embrace. They will not see you."

Idun felt rather than heard him leave.

She sat up carefully. Had Jaden survived? She had no idea where the wagon was. She pushed up to her feet, staggering for a moment. He had said to step backwards. Ten steps. She would be relatively safe within the confines of the pine.

Idun scowled. She shoved the bandages from her brow, rubbed at her eyes. She blinked, aware of a faint glimmer of light. Rubbing her eyes again, she turned. Shadows wavered in front of her, blurry columns of dark and light. Trees. They were trees. She turned again, the light brighter, crossed with brief flashes of darkness. She could feel the ground shaking beneath her feet. The giants were closing in.

She rushed back, counted the ten steps, felt the branches at seven and ducked beneath them.

She was a coward, fleeing the battle, no matter that her sight was gone. She had no weapon, she argued with herself, no way to find one before the giants would see her and kill her as they had probably done with Jaden, smashed beneath the weight of a tree-sized club.

It was not a good way to die, not knowing it was coming.

Yet she had sent an arrow true, even in her blindness. Had she her bow again, she might do so again, but she had lost it when the giant had hurled her aside. Why had he not killed her outright? What had been his intention? Or had he simply expected her to slam into the trees to die.

More than likely.

Or had something interfered? Could Idun interfere as well? Could she distract the giants, perhaps giving the elves some kind of advantage? A death doing so would be far more glorious than one hiding beneath a tree while the elves fought bravely and without fear.

She shoved her way out from under the tree, stumbling over roots and rocks. She could hear the giants, the falling rain of arrows. She felt her way toward the sound of the battle, falling twice as rocks hampered her steps, unable to sense their presence in her dusky haze of sight.

Things were getting clearer, however. Her path became easier as she began to see more detail. One of the giants loomed above her. He did not see her as he stumbled, riddled with many arrows, finally falling as another thudded into the back of his head to send the giant crashing to the ground.

Idun ducked out from behind a rock, racing for the remains of the wagon. Her bow lay near it and she scooped up the weapon as she ran past. Jaden lay amid the wreckage, his eyes closed, yet she could see his chest rising and falling as he breathed, immobile from terror.

At least he was still alive.

A hiss made her turn. One of the elves raced toward her, leaping the obstacles that had hampered her path with ease. His hair shimmered in the light, his expression grimly focused on her. Idun gripped her bow and turned as he reached her, meeting his gaze defiantly.

But this was not Haldir.

"You will kill him if you remain, the giants think him dead." The elf caught her arm, jerking behind him as he rushed past her.

Idun ran with him, startled by the strength in the grip on her arm, the power so easily held in the slim hand.

He nearly ran up the tree, so quickly did he leap upwards. Other hands caught him, even as she remained in his grip, both lifted swiftly into the confines of the tree. Idun gasped, released as suddenly as she had been caught. She sat down heavily onto a branch. The elf climbed higher, joining two more above him in the tree. The three argued, a rapid exchange of words that did not deter the arrows released at the remaining giants.

The elf that had grabbed her whistled.

Idun blinked and then realized he was waving at her to climb higher. She shifted carefully and began to move up, not nearly as graceful as the elves had been.

"You have no sense," the elf reprimanded her softly when she settled beside him on his branch. "Do you not know when to obey orders of the March Warden?"

"Was that an order, then?" she replied, taking a deep breath to calm her nerves.

"Indeed," the elf replied and then shook his head. "He will not be pleased. You should have remained safely hidden."

Idun scowled at the thought and then pointed at the tree where Haldir had left her. "If I had I'd be dead then." The giant who had stumbled past her lay over the remains of the pine, much of it shattered by its dying rage. "They aren't so big yet are terribly effective at clearing the forest. Perhaps they should be hired to clear it for the farmers." She smiled at her attempted humor only to find the elf not amused.

"They only destroy, do not think such foolish things."

"I was only kidding," Idun complained under her breath.

"The forest is to be respected, each tree that is broken is a life lost."

Idun blinked, abashed. "I am sorry. I did not think of it that way."

The elf frowned, and then sighed. "I do not mean to be angry. You simply cannot hear their screams as they die."

She didn't want to hear any more screams, she had heard plenty all ready.

The other elf in the tree climbed down, pausing beside them. "There is but one remaining. It heads toward Haldir."

The elve's gazes locked for a moment, a communion of thought Idun could not decipher.

A scream sent them descending out of the tree so rapidly she had hardly blinked before they were down and running toward the sound. Idun climbed down more slowly. She could do no more, her strength gone as she dropped from the last branch.

The forest seemed to close in around her, deathly silent as she sank down against the tree behind her.

Had that been Haldir who had screamed? The last remaining giant? Another elf? One of her people? Who had once again survived the attack? Would there be yet another? Idun could hardly bear the thoughts shifting rapidly through her mind. The crackling of brush brought her head up. Ahead several people staggered through the forest. Idun stood up, gripping the trunk of the tree as she recognized Cook's family, and behind them several more. Jaden was sitting up amid the wagon wreckage.

But where were the elves?

Had they been all lost?

Idun stumbled toward Cook's son. "Where are they? Where are the elves?"

He pointed behind them, expression grim.

Idun stared past him, her fingers pressed against her lips. Had Haldir been lost? She could hardly believe it. She hurried past the others, fearing the worst.

When she reached the elves, they were crouched around another lying on the ground. She could see little of any of them but for their backs, the long hair lying over silver green cloaks, and the legs and booted feet of the one fallen. Was he dead? She slowed her steps, moving slower toward the grieving group with apprehension.

Behind them the remaining giant lay half standing against another group of pines, speared in the back by a broken trunk, his chest a pin cushion of arrows buried to their fletchings.

Idun stopped a few feet from the elves, unable to move closer, unable to retreat.

Finally one of the elves looked up, noting her with a frown. A touch on the elf beside him brought up another head, and a softly spoken command she barely heard. Haldir turned to look at her, his brow lifting as he studied her. He knelt next to the prone elf, his fingers pressed to the elf's chest as blood welled past them in a flow unhindered by the pressure against it. Idun stepped back, aware she had intruded, unable to do anything to help.

Haldir returned his attention to the elf, leaning lower to speak into his ear. The elf shuddered, but did not cry out, and then gripped Haldir's arm in a movement of such despair that Idun nearly wept. Haldir covered the fingers with his own, but then dropped his head as the elf relaxed, eyes gazing lifelessly beyond them.

Stories spoke of the elves as cold, distant creatures that felt little emotion. Haldir had nearly embodied that notion on his arrival, gossip spreading even to those on the wall of his passionless pleas for the elders to listen. But perhaps he had felt more, hiding the emotions from those who would not understand or even believe true.

Haldir folded the elf's hands over his chest, and then brushed his fingers over the elf's eyes to close them. The others rose silently, their grief unchecked. Two elves followed Haldir as he turned toward her, his face expressionless once more.

Idun felt a faint thread of worry coil up through her chest. She had intruded. Had refused to follow an order, even if from a commander not of her people. As a warrior she knew better. Haldir stopped in front of her, towering over her slighter frame, his gaze glittering in the dusky light of the forest.

"Your sight has returned."


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three:

Haldir studied the girl for a long moment. How had he not noticed her beauty, he wondered, taken once again by her fairness, the curl of blonde strands that softened the edges of her face. A faint cough drew him back, stiffened the back of his shoulders a hair that none but his two brothers would note. He cast a warning glance behind him to still any comment each might make.

The girl studied him back, if not as openly, the long moment between them drawing out until even he grew uncomfortable.

"Your sight," he repeated. "You can see me."

She blinked, as if reminded of his question and then blushed, a fair sight as her cheeks grew pink. "I can see. I do not know what changed things, but after you," she paused and her cheeks grew brighter. "After you left me, I found I could see shadows. It was not long after I could see nearly as well as I had before."

"You did not remain as I asked beneath the tree."

She lifted her chin to look at him. "Had I stayed I would probably be dead."

Haldir noted the defiance in her tone. "Perhaps." He folded his arms across his chest. He'd been relieved that she seemed relatively unharmed. "I would have been far less worried had you stayed out of the battle."

She frowned, a tiny line forming between her brows. "I am a warrior as much as you are, March Warden. Would you have stayed hidden were it you?"

"It does not matter what I would do," he countered smoothly, amused by her resistance. "You defied an order, as a warrior, that is . . ."

"But I am not one of your wardens to command," she argued. She leaned closer to point a finger at him. "I did what I had to do. I will not die a coward, cowering in the bushes while my people fight giants."

He could not fault her for her fervor, although things could have turned out far worse. He nodded faintly and turned, drawing her beside him to lead her back to the wagons.

"Why do they attack? What have we done to encourage them?"

Haldir frowned, his gaze distant. "They seek only to destroy, seeking revenge upon a people who do not deserve such treatment."

"We have done nothing to them!" The girl was indignant, her fists clenched at her sides as she stopped beside him.

Haldir glanced back to find Rumil and Orophin had moved away to help clear debris. Both elves would have mirrored his expression, one of distaste and outrage at such atrocities the giants meted on the unwary. "Nay, you did not, but for them, it would not have mattered. They have crept from their mountain caves to destroy those they feel inferior, weary of being held to their lofty eyries, while grander lands are controlled by humans such as your village elders. The choice you had was to flee to safety or fight. I fear, however, that even fleeing might not have gone well, had you made the attempt. The creatures you call 'giants' attacked far quicker than I anticipated."

"So we never really had any chance. . ." her words trailed off as she turned away, her body rigid in an attempt to control her emotions. Haldir waited patiently. After a moment she turned her head, eyelashes suspiciously damp. "We have lost so many."

"But not all," he reminded her. He had felt much the same way, the admonishment as much for his sake as hers. He reached out and grasped her arm, aware intimately of her reaction, the tremor that passed beneath his fingers. He resisted the impulse to pull her closer. She was not his to possess, her youth and very humanity made it impossible. "Perhaps you will tell me your name now."

She pulled free of his grip, rubbing her arm as if his contact had hurt her. He frowned, flexing his fingers. He had not held her so hard as to cause pain. "I suppose it is only fair, since I have your name. I am Idun. My father was Adair."

Haldir nodded sagely. "Of course, you have learned much from him."

Idun looked up in surprise. "You know of him?"

"Aye, we met once, a long time ago."

She looked away again, her voice when she spoke hardly a whisper. "He never told me. I miss him, you know. I do not know how you do it."

Haldir lifted a brow, curious. "Do what, Idun?"

"Keep your feelings in check."

He blinked, startled. He was glad his brothers had not remained nearby.

She continued, her back to him as if facing him made speaking difficult. "I mean, I know elves aren't supposed to feel much. Father said all warriors had to become hardened, not let things get to them. Fighting isn't easy, he said, dealing with the death by your hand, even worse."

Haldir nodded, even though she did not see him. "It is always difficult to bear the death of any creature, be they friend or foe."

Idun sighed, her gaze lifting to peer over her shoulder at him. "I am sorry for your loss, Haldir. It surely cannot be easy to lose one of your elves as you have."

Haldir fought the grief that he had pushed aside, his jaw stiff from the tension. "We know death could be had at any time. We are always prepared."

"Are you?" She turned, curious, her dark eyes searching his face. "I don't think you really are. What will you do now?"

"His soul has left us for the Halls of Mandos, his body we will inter as our customs direct us. As for you, we will take you to a safer haven."

She stepped closer and rested a hand on his chest. He flinched at the touch, surprised by the heat radiating from beneath her fingers. "You make it sound so simple. Carry him away, do this, do that, without a bat of an eyelash. Do you not mourn?"

"We will weep, Idun, when there is time."

She frowned, her fingers curling into the fabric of his tunic. "When will there be time, elf? Do you tell me that there are more of those creatures lurking nearby, that we might be attacked once more?"

"I do not know, Idun. My wardens have not yet returned from their scouting. But I do not wish to remain here, or take chances if there are more. We have injured and elderly to take to safety." He gently pried her fingers free of his tunic. "I will grieve as I do all of that. But do not press me further."

He stepped away, his heart heavy with responsibility, for the loss of his elf, a friend he would miss, and the needs of the people he had tried to save once already. He had not time for grief. There was far too much to do.

. . .oOo . . .

Idun sighed as the elf walked away, his body stiff with perhaps anger at her prodding, more likely the grief he refused to show. She should not have pressed him, but he seemed so distant, she had only wanted a deeper reaction. Her own heart ached at the loss of life, of those she had known since childhood. A touch on her elbow made her gasp in surprise. One of the elves she had sat with in the tree stood behind her, his face just as emotionless as Haldir's.

"Haldir said we are to gather the remaining people to the wagons. We have only two left undamaged. There are elderly, one in particular that does not wish us to aid her. Perhaps you can persuade her to come with us?"

The elf lifted a brow in question as he waited for her answer.

"It must be Nina. I will go to her."

"I am Orophin." The elf bowed his head, a touch to his brow in greeting. "I will lead you to her. Perhaps you will have better luck than I. Does she dislike us so much?"

Idun shook her head. They walked past the place where the elf had fallen, the ground darkened from his blood. She shivered and looked away. "Nay, it is not that, Orophin. She is just that way. I am sure you were most kind to her."

Orophin paused, his expression grave. "Why did the elders refuse to flee? Your warriors were not many although they fought bravely."

"I do not know. I wish I did." She vowed she'd find out why, though. Nina would know.

They reached a cluster of people, with several sitting with heads bowed, while Nina stood with her arms folded over her chest, her chin high, arguing it seemed with another elf.

"I tell you, I will not go."

Orophin sighed faintly. Idun smiled as she reached Nina and the other elf. "Nina, are you all right."

"I'm right as rain, child. Tell these creatures to leave me alone. I am not so old as I need to be carried like a cripple. I am going back to the village."

Idun shook her head, taking Nina's arm gently. "No, you cannot. There is nothing left there, Nina. You know that. The buildings have all been damaged. We must go where it is safe. There might be more giants out there."

"Pssh, I am not afraid of them. I am just an old woman, they have no reason to hurt me."

"They think old women taste quite good," the elf standing with them remarked nastily. Orophin gripped the elf's arm to draw him away, but the elf resisted. "We could have returned to Lorien, but Haldir would not leave. Even now he delays our journey in order to take you safely away, yet you refuse our aid one more?"

Nina scowled and poked her finger hard into the elf's chest. "Always sticking your nose into where it don't belong, your kind does. Maybe it was you that stirred up those giants."

The elf stepped back, his expression darkened with anger.

"Nina!" Idun gripped the elders shoulders to pull her away. "I'm sorry, she is not herself."

"I am just fine," Nina complained, but she allowed Idun to lead her away, while Orophin held the elf in place with a hand on his arm.

"What is wrong with you," Idun hissed, once they were a distance away. "Have you gone mad? They are trying to help."

"Trying to get us off our land. If we leave, Idun, it will be ours no longer."

"What is left that we can salvage, Nina. Nothing, everything is ruined. Our people are dead and now burned to ashes. We cannot stay here."

Nina stopped, her fingers gripping Idun's arm painfully. "Your father was a great warrior once. He would have stayed."

"He would not fight something that was not worth fighting for," Idun argued softly. "Come, please. Let us go. Once we know it is safe we can come back."

"If I go, I will never come back," Nina replied, but she allowed Idun to lead her toward the waiting wagons. "Those elves came before you know."

Idun helped her into the wagon and tucked a blanket around her knees. "And you will promise to tell me all about it, won't you."

Nina glanced at the elves, standing apart near the trees as Haldir gave them orders, his hands moving gracefully as he pointed, his words too low for Idun to hear. "I might, just so you know to be wary of them. They are not so nice as they seem, child."

Idun patted Nina's knee. "We shall see."

The wagon lurched forward a few moments later, with Jaden at the reins. He flashed Idun a grimace as he went by. The other wagon followed, with the paltry remains of the surviving villagers trailing behind. Orophin touched his brow as he walked past, with the other elf beside him.

"I see you have met my brothers."

Idun looked back to find Haldir standing behind her. "I have always wanted brothers."

"They are not always enjoyable."

She smiled. "Perhaps," she said, mocking his short reply from earlier. "But much like you it seems."

He arched a brow and then fell into step beside her. "I would speak of your father. As I said, we met once long ago, I remember him well for he asked many questions, several about our training."

Idun stopped and stared up at him. "And you told him?"

Haldir shrugged. "We hold no secrets regarding our methods. If one asks, why would I not tell?"

She frowned. "But that would give advantage. . ."

"Perhaps, perhaps not. I sensed no underlying intentions that I should not speak of our ways. Should I have been concerned?" Haldir pressed her elbow, not quite taking hold, to move her forward once more. "Do not answer, for there was nothing for concern. I see, however, he took much to heart."

She remembered her father's determination that they would be highly skilled warriors. He had sought information from many people, including it seemed, the elves. "Yes, he did. Perhaps not exactly as you train, for I am sure he changed things. He was always seeking better ways to do things."

"Even so, I recognized a skill trained to our elflings."

She looked at him curiously.

Haldir smiled, amused. "Your ability to let fly your arrows even blinded is exceptional."

Idun grinned. "Thank you. I went many nights with a late supper for not being able to hit anything. Father said the skilled warrior shot by feel, not by sight. So when I began to train, he made me shoot blindfolded. I fear my aim was terrible at first."

"Yet you excelled with his instruction."

She ducked her head, distinctly uncomfortable with the compliment. "Well enough."

He lifted a brow in question, halting as they reached the wagon. Idun gripped the side with her hands and rested her chin on them. She frowned, her gaze focused distantly. "Does speaking as we have lesson the pain of your warden's passing?"

Haldir stiffened, a step back put space between them and Idun looked up and then tilted her head for a moment. She turned, and before he could retreat once more, she reached upwards to place her hands on his cheeks. He could not move, shocked by the touch, and the kiss that followed, gently placed on his brow after she pulled him forward.

"I grieve with you, March Warden, as you have for me and my people." She stepped away after that, leaving him standing alone.


	4. Chapter 4

CHAPTER 4

Idun shivered in the chill air, searching the edges of the riverbank for danger as she crouched near the water. Filling her water-skin took only moments, yet she lingered, hearing dimly the sounds of camp behind her, of the refugees settling in for the evening. They had walked for what seemed like leagues, weary of both heart and mind, pushed by the elves until many could go no farther.

Tired as she was, Idun felt edgy, unable to sit and talk near the fire. Jaden had taken care of Nina, while the elves, after seeing that everyone had arrived at the camp, had retreated into the woods around them. It was as if they had never been there. Idun knew they had not gone far, but still, unable to see or hear them made her uneasy.

She capped the water-skin and tucked it on her belt, but still did not rise. She trailed her fingers in the water, watching the spreading rings move slowly outward, marring the reflection of the setting sun. A gap in the mountain allowed the last final rays to shine through, giving the landscape that sharp coloration of fading day to dusk. She knew many would fear the dark, for as always, danger seemed to lurk when one could not see.

The elves could see in the darkness, however, and perhaps that was why they had retreated. Keeping the people of her village safe had become a priority for Haldir, for reasons she was not yet clear on. She would have liked to speak to him further, but like the others, he had disappeared into the night.

No one else had come near the river.

Idun smiled faintly and sat down to take off her boots. A long days walk had earned her a few blisters. It felt good to ease her feet into the water. She sat still for a long moment and then nearly giggled. Were the elves even now watching? She could find out soon enough, for would Haldir not come forward if she continued to disrobe?

Or would they simply watch? Her lips twitched at the thought as she stood up to remove her jacket. The fabric was thick, quilted with a waxed layer on the outside that shed water. Her mother had helped her make it, one of the last things they had worked on together. Covering Idun past her hips, it helped to camouflage her gender, if only from a distance. Belt and packs dropped next, and then the shirt that hung to her knees, leaving her only in a thin linen undershirt and her leather breeches. Feet bare, toes squishing into the cool mud, she glanced warily over her shoulder toward camp.

. . . oOo . . .

Rumil could have stepped in at any time, his position near the river bank had given him an excellent view of the surrounding area, and now, especially, a near perfect viewing of Idun, to stop her from continuing her disrobing. The cough Idun had heard, causing her to turn, had not come from him, but from his brother, standing behind Rumil with arms folded over his chest, brows drawn together in a frown that did not bode well for him or any other who might have been enjoying the show.

"Are you done?" Haldir's voice was pleasant, yet Rumil knew that voice very well, and the expression that would have sent any of his other wardens scurrying for cover.

Rumil waved a hand over his shoulder toward Idun. "She wasn't quite done yet."

"Indeed."

Rumil heard a splash that signaled the woman had continued, leaving him facing the wrong way, while Haldir . . . Rumil lifted a brow, folding his own arms over his chest. "Indeed," he remarked with a faint jerk of his head toward the river. "The view here is excellent." He grinned when Haldir started toward him and then held out his hand to halt his brother's advance. "She knew that we were not far."

"It does not matter, for an honor-bound elf would have made his presence known or retreated soundlessly," Haldir complained, reaching out to grip Rumil's tunic to pull Rumil closer. "Of all my wardens, I would have expected more from you, brother."

"And yet, _brother_," Rumil argued softly, "you were the one facing her when the last of her clothing came off, yet you did not turn away."

"That is because she did not remove it," Haldir hissed. He released Rumil abruptly. "You can find Orophin and spend the evening with him."

Rumil sighed, but nodded and touched his brow. "As you command, March Warden."

Haldir did not watch Rumil leave, the darkness settling around him until he was silhouetted by the fading light. The sounds of splashing continued, and as Rumil paused to watch, Haldir did not turn toward the river, but settled down into a crouch where he had stood, bow in hand, head bowed in thought.

Rumil sighed again. Haldir had too much on his mind not to appreciate the opportunity at hand. The loss of life and especially that of their warden weighed heavy on his brother's shoulders. A responsibility to these people made a long journey longer, yet Rumil knew Haldir would not turn away from what he perceived to be his duty. Orophin would be better company, yet Rumil would have rather spent the night near Haldir, if only to coerce the elf into a better humor.

Orders were orders, however, and finding Orophin would not be easy in the darkness.

. . .oOo . . .

Idun swam lazily, the water cool yet not uncomfortable, the darkness now surrounding her an excellent shield if anyone was watching. She was disappointed none had come forward. She had been sure Haldir would have arrived, yet he had not. Perhaps the elves had ranged farther than she thought, or worse, had left them all together, leaving them on on their own. The thought sent a chill through her. They had allowed the elves to take command without question. Had they been too trusting? What did they really know about the elves?

Idun cursed, wading out of the water toward shore. She had been a fool. Where had her head gone, to worry more about enticing elves than her own safety and that of those left of her village? She shook her hair out from her eyes, scooping up her cloak to dry off. Fool, fool, she berated herself, worrying that even now danger lurked behind every tree.

A faint sound made her spin, dropping low to pick up her dagger where it lay near her boots. Crouching, she stared into the darkness, listening acutely for something more. Nothing moved, only the wind scuttling leaves from the trees, and the river itself as it moved quietly behind her made any noise.

Idun did not move, only tightened her grip on the knife, fingers nearly white with the strain.

"You will catch a chill if you do not dress more quickly."

Idun gasped and leaped to her feet, slashing out with her blade. A shadow shifted and fingers caught her wrist in a painful grip that made her lose all feeling in her fingers. She dropped the dagger, but twisted against the hold on her arm to slam her shoulder into the body behind her. It clearly hurt her shoulder more than it had her attacker, for he only grunted faintly, while she bounced back from the impact, stumbling backwards over her boots. She would have fallen, horrified at her clumsiness, but for the arm that snaked around her waist to pull her back to her feet.

The moonlight, hidden behind a cloud, chose at that moment to break through, filtering down so that Idun could finally see. The elf holding her smiled faintly, his silver hair gleaming like moonbeams in the night, eyes lit by a faint glimmer of iridescence that told her could see her far better than she could see him.

Haldir.

Idun jerked back, stepping away from the elf with a hiss. "How long have you been there?"

"Far too long," he replied dryly. "I thought you would swim most the night." He shifted and the moonlight glanced off his cheek as he turned away. "I would suggest you dress quickly, Idun."

Wasn't this what she had secretly wanted, Idun thought, to draw the elf to her by swimming? It suddenly had not seemed so wise, for he did not sound happy to have been there. "I just wanted to take a bath. I do not know when I will be able to do so again."

"Indeed," Haldir agreed. "But you should have alerted someone to keep watch for danger," he glanced over his shoulder at her. "Or perhaps that was what you intended?"

She pulled on her boots, and then stood up to drag on her jacket. "What do you mean?"

"You knew we were not far."

"I had no idea where you were. You left without telling anyone. As far we knew, you had left us behind."

She flinched when he turned back toward her, the moonlight glittering in his eyes. "Did you truly think I would leave you unprotected?"

Idun jerked on her packs,tying them to her belt. "Of course, why would you stay?" She sighed and crouched down, dragging a hand through her hair. "Of course you didn't leave. I suspected you were not far."

"So a swim in the midst of danger?" His voice held an underlying note that chilled her.

"Was a foolish idea," she agreed sourly.

He sank down beside her to one knee, arm braced on the other. "The water was warm?"

She glanced at him, confused by the sudden change of topic. "It wasn't bad."

"I did not mean to frighten you."

Idun picked up a stick, twisting it into her fingers. "I should have been more alert. How many were. . .

Haldir sighed faintly. "It matters not, for there was nothing to see, Idun." The elf rose to his feet and held out his hand. Idun stared at it, noticing how pale his skin was in the moonlight. It reminded her of how different they were. She gripped his fingers and stood up, then retreated several steps, brushing off her jacket. Why would they even be interested in her? Had he not been shocked by her kiss earlier, his expression one of … she didn't want to admit it, but probably of distaste.

She'd been a fool in more ways than she could count. Surely the battle had rattled her head. She wasn't thinking clearly, to believe the elves would even consider her. She shivered and picked up her sword, sliding it into the sheath with a faint growl.

She would have stepped past the elf but he caught her arm in a familiar grip. "I do not mean to upset you."

She tried to jerk free again, but this time the vise of his fingers did not loosen. "I am not upset."

She heard him laugh softly. "Liar, woman. Your eyes flash fire. I am sorry. I do not mean to offend. I simply meant, Idun, that you did not disrobe fully enough for anyone to see much more than a pair of very long legs."

Idun stared at him, unable to see him fully. "So you _were_ there."

"As I said, for far too long."

She glared at him with a faint sniff. "You could have said something."

"And reveal that I was there?" He shook his head, the long strands of his hair gleaming for a moment. "Nay, I was there, but did not watch, Idun. I merely waited for you to finish. But do not provoke me further, if you wish to remain unharmed. Even elves have limits." He let her go, and with a flash of silver hair, moved off into the darkness, leaving Idun alone once more.

She stood still for a moment, rubbing her arm. An odd shiver raced down her spine at his words, replayed again in her mind. Had he meant that for himself or for his wardens? Idun looked around at the shadowed trees. She shivered again. It was high time she was back at camp. Nina was probably worried about her. She didn't trust the elves.

Idun needed to find out why.

. . . oOo . . .

Haldir sat in the tree not far from the camp, wedged comfortably in the vee of two branches, as relaxed as a woodland elf could be in the wilds. There were enough elves near him to warn him of any danger, so there was no need to stay alert, yet still Haldir could not sleep.

It was a simple matter, he had thought, to lead these people to the relative safety of their own kind, to a village in the mountains that had lost enough of their own to welcome newcomers who might need a place to call home. He had seen it so clearly, knowing the trek would take several weeks, yet for an elf such time frames were nothing more than moments. It had not concerned him.

They had only traveled one day, however, and already the journey seemed immense, the problems mounting as the moments passed by.

Idun was going to be an issue. She was inexperienced. She was naïve, foolish to the point of risking both herself and those around her. She was a distraction he did not need to deal with. Yet it was her mortality, the fleeting wonder of a life so limited, so short that drew him in. So much to experience in such a short time, it was no wonder she had played her game, if partly unconscious of the true essence of her ploy. What would she have done had Rumil, or any other come forward? What if one of her villagers had found her?

He shook his head, leaning back to stare upward through the branches. The moon had shifted across the sky, an orb of looming brightness in the early morning, for hours had passed as he sat, musing on the day's events. Amazing that such thoughts had occupied his mind for so long, even now with no answer for what he must do.

If anything.

He had made a choice, to act responsibly in the event of the village's tragedy. He could not recant his promise. He would take them to Ashdara. The mountain folk were similar. They would mesh well enough. Idun was young enough to attract many suitors. Or she could find her place among the men as a warrior as she had before. But had they truly accepted her as such, or had her father's presence protected her from harm? Would she now be vulnerable, while in her mind, she was the same as any man?

How to convince her of her danger?

How to avoid her, for each moment he thought of her, he found himself ensnared more deeply.

Haldir groaned and rubbed his eyes. It would be light soon, and time to wake everyone so they could be moving by the time the sun rose. He shifted to a more comfortable position, his bow propped close at hand, his quiver tucked between his feet. He folded his hands behind his head and then looked down.

The villagers lay not far, mounds of blankets surrounding the banked fire that gave off little light.

He knew exactly where Idun lay.

And knew she was not sleeping either.


End file.
